


Firsts or: Going in for the Kill

by LucyInTheSkye



Series: Sirius x Remus [43]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acceptance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Banter, Compromise, Coping Mechanisms, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, London, Loss of Virginity, Love, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Painful Sex, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Trauma, whatever that means
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyInTheSkye/pseuds/LucyInTheSkye
Summary: July 1980. Reminiscing on a rooftop.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Sirius x Remus [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483745
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Firsts or: Going in for the Kill

**Author's Note:**

> This might be triggering to read and I would recommend skipping it if you find any of the themes tagged difficult.
> 
> This is one I hesitate to post at all, but it is part of the bigger picture so I decided I will. It was originally part of a longer story that I never wrote more than short snippets of before I tried to abandon it. It's not left me alone, which is why I ended up weaving part of it into Sirius's and Remus's story here, anyway.

(The first time Sirius did magic was before he could walk or talk. He had stopped mid-howl only to remove some offending vegetable mush from his plate. It had apparently splattered both his parents and the House Elf. In the early retellings of the story by his mother, she had always laughed indulgently at the end, like it had been a moment they should all remember fondly, despite the inconvenience it had caused at the time.)

“That felt a bit like our first time.”

“Excuse me!?” 

Sirius put his full and considerable skill in the theatrical arts into his enunciation, and Remus dutifully laughed like it was the best thing since _A Comedy of Errors_.

“You mean to say the blowie I just generously gifted you with was as inexpertly delivered as the first one you got from me when we were sixteen?”

“I was fifteen,” Remus said smugly, lips still twitching like there was more waiting to burst free.

“I corrupted you,” Sirius said happily, then changed his tone with a drop of the metaphorical but very much artistically skilled hat: “was that an attempt to change the subject? Bloody weak if it was, mate. You realize I threw up in my mouth a couple of times when I first learnt to blow you?”

“That’s disgusting,” Remus said, looking torn between disbelief and horror. Dawning realization and then…

“Yeah, you’re right to feel proud of yourself,” Sirius whispered in his ear, making Remus blush and squirm, “you’re quite right to be proud. You’re that fucking big that you made me lose control completely. You’re packing so much that your dickhead doesn’t just tickle my tonsils but has actually become firm friends with my Adam’s apple.”

Remus hung onto every word, then kissed Sirius hard on the mouth. Sirius opened wide, teasing his lover with a taste of his own medicine. Semen, actually, although Sirius did gulp it down like a tonic in the mornings.

Remus took it for seconds, even got his tongue involved. Sirius realized at some point that he wasn’t trying to tease anymore. That he was just loving the feeling, the feeling of his lover’s mouth, his lover’s hands on him, loving the feeling of being alive and there in the moment, warm bodies touching. Loved being in love, loved more than he had ever thought possible.

“I meant,” Remus whispered, still mouthing over Sirius’s bottom lip but just about audible, “that I felt that same shock again as I did our first time. When it dawns on me that it’s not a joke. That you’re actually here with me.”

Sirius could have quipped about this actually being the culmination of a practical joke and that he was a polyjuiced Professor Slughorn and not Sirius at all, and more fool him. It went without saying that he didn’t. He kissed Remus some more instead, squeezed his hand and caressed the back of his head. It was surprisingly easy once he had gotten into the habit of it. He still joked around, but nowadays he could tell when it wouldn’t be appreciated. When his lover was being real with him, baring himself. When there was nothing but more love that needed to be thrown back into Remus’s sweet, freckly face.

(His first practical joke hadn’t been with James. It had been at the tender age of four and a half. He had taken his baby brother out of his bed and replaced him with a sleepy, possibly hibernating bat he had found exploring the house, hanging in the attic. Regulus had snoozed in Sirius’s room next to his brother, but Sirius had barely slept a wink, waiting, giggling into his fists. 

There had been a great culmination in the morning when his mother had screamed and then stalked into his room, finding them both there safe and sound yet slapping him so hard Regulus had woken up from the noise. Afterwards, however, Sirius had caught her telling the story to her friends and family, like it was funny. Like Sirius had been clever. Like she was proud.)

“Today would be a good day to enact your, um, fantasy, wouldn’t it?” Remus asked, shyly hiding behind his fringe, thick pale lashes getting caught in that specific way, and good Merlin how much didn’t Sirius love him? 

( _Are you proud of me now?_ )

“Yeah?” Sirius asked, although he was overcome with the need to kiss him some more. To hug Remus into his body.

“Weather’s decent, still.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

Sirius grinned broadly to cover up his apprehension. He had possibly been too hasty in coming up with his great big fantasy, and the reality of it was that it wasn’t even all that, because he had plenty of the little buggers buzzing around his head at all times. None very pressing, most all just featuring a vague idea of Remus’s come squirting through his fingers or running down his cheeks. Why on earth had he picked… He could try and change it to something else.

“Where should we…? The field, again?"

Sirius was quiet for a beat, then internally shrugged off his misgivings. Remus wanted to do it.

“Too far. Besides, we’ve already done that field. Thoroughly.”

Remus blushed and Sirius sniggered into his hot, pink cheek. Soft flesh and sharp bit of bone.

(The first time he ran away from home he had been six or seven. Things hadn’t been truly bad back then between him and his parents. His mother indulged him and punished him depending on her mood and his father ignored him.

No, Sirius had run away because the tutor who was supposed to prepare him and Regulus for Hogwarts by teaching them Latin and French and Algebra and Wizarding Waltz and the history of Great Britain’s magical towns had let slip that muggles, too, had castles. Buckingham Palace had not an ounce of magic in its walls, according to the tutor, and Sirius had demanded they go see it. The tutor had sneered at him and told him in no uncertain terms that he would never see it as long as he lived under this roof. Sirius had promptly pretended he needed the lavatory and then marched straight out the front door in search of Buckingham Palace. He had made it through most of Camden before he was apprehended and brought back to Grimmauld Place. The tutor had been fired, though, which had given him some satisfaction.)

“What about we do it right in the city centre?”

Remus shook his head, slowly, and Sirius could tell that he was failing to see the logistics as Sirius saw them.

“Right in the middle of London,” Sirius whispered into his cheek, “right where anyone might see.”

Remus moaned, shook his head, and his prick was growing so hard in Sirius’s hand that he could feel it tremble.

“On a rooftop,” Sirius finished, giving Remus a light squeeze.

“Oh. _Oh_.”

(The first time Sirius flew on a broomstick it had been out in the austerely flowering back garden at Grimmauld Place. Small, with high goblin-wrought silvery garden walls and too shortly trimmed grass; there also grew a single, beautifully blossoming pear tree, which sharp branches had poked his neck as he rose through the air. 

He had enjoyed it, but only until Regulus too tried it and turned out to be a natural. Just about the only thing he had ever been better at than Sirius, and Sirius had of course decided that this meant that flying was overrated.

It had taken until James before Sirius gave flying another go and found that he still enjoyed it. It had taken until buying a muggle motorcycle and charming it to fly for Sirius to truly learn to love flying. He still wasn’t a natural, though.)

“I think we can do that,” Remus said. His eyes were a bit glazed over, and Sirius was massaging him, palm moving in soothing circles over his erection. “No one will see, if we’re truly high up.”

“That’s right,” Sirius said fondly, kissing his cheek, marvelling at his face, his skin. All the freckles they had birthed by having Remus sunbathe naked, far away from people at Remus’s behest, where no one but Sirius might see him. So many charming freckles.

“Then let’s go,” Remus said, eyes burning with passion and need.

“I need to get ready,” Sirius said regrettably.

(He had spent most of his childhood solely in the company of his closest family. He had been mostly good to Regulus when they were little, but he had also looked on him with disdain, despairing how he never ‘got it’ the way Sirius did. Sirius’s mind ran rings around Regulus’s. and it was at its most apparent when they were small. 

His cousins had been much older and had mostly looked down their noses at him just like you would expect. 

Narcissa was introverted and not quite as clever and beautiful as some, and she occasionally deigned to spend time babysitting Regulus. It had made sense when Sirius got older and saw the likenesses there. He sometimes thought Narcissa taking a haughty, lukewarm interest had helped protect Regulus.

Andromeda and Bellatrix had been rivals, once. Both were loud, good with words, clever with magic. Both were stunning to look at. Bellatrix was better at everything, had the more jaw-dropping looks, and Sirius could remember when Andromeda had stopped trying to compete. They had all thought that she had seen defeat, but of course he knew now she hadn’t. Knew now she had changed direction completely and gone where her older, better, utterly immoral sister could not exist. Andromeda had reinvented herself. Sirius had become reacquainted with her later. Afterwards, but not when he was still a child. Not when he would have needed a protector the most.

Bellatrix had started looking at him differently, but he couldn’t pinpoint it to an exact moment. A child, still, but not like others. Somehing more. He reminded her of -) 

“This is living!” Sirius hollered, hoping it did not ring hollow.

Disillusioned, with Remus’s hands and torso pressed to his back, coupled with the purring vibrations from his trusted Black Beauty, and the view of central London basking in sunlight on a rare fine summer’s day would usually have been plenty to make him aroused and content with life. However, he was currently hampered by something thick and uncomfortable and silicone up his bum, and he was finding it difficult to focus.

He had told Remus that he wanted to get fucked over his motorbike, because it was something he felt it would be natural for every bike-owner to want to experience, and he sadly hadn’t, yet. So far, so good. What he had neglected to take into account, probably drunk with the sight of all the dear, dear freckles, was how utterly uncomfortable he found getting fucked. He liked fucking, liked being close to Remus, liked it when Remus touched him. Liked giving Remus what he needed. Liked the idea of taking it up the arse. Unfortunately for Sirius, the reality of it was never very enjoyable, actually he was lucky if it didn’t end up painful. Hence the plug.

“I can’t wait,” Remus whispered in his ear, barely audible over the rush of wind they were moving through. Remus was pressing against him, hard as a rock. Huge, too.

Sirius moved one hand from the handlebar and squeezed Remus’s hand into his belly. How he loved him. High up, and he knew Remus sometimes got vertigo, or maybe it was motion sickness. He seemed to be too focused on Sirius to get bad today. They could both get off on this, Sirius knew he could do it. He just had to keep his focus on Remus.

He could see three skyscrapers, one a bit taller than the rest. He raised his body a bit, managed not to wince when things inside him shifted, pushed on the handlebars and suddenly had Remus clinging to him in a different way, yelling out in fright. Sirius stared down at the rapidly approaching rooftop and laughed.

(Sirius couldn’t remember when it had started anymore. Bellatrix. A round dozen times in total. Christmases and birthdays and summer fêtes at Grimmauld Place. The first time he had gone with her voluntarily. Times later she had gone in search of him until she found him, sometimes already locked into his room for misbehaving. A sitting duck if ever there was one.)

Remus was bracing for impact, but the landing was smooth. The landing was always smooth when Remus was travelling with him. Safe, because Remus needed safety. Sirius could understand that, just like he could understand that it had been on him to change. They were different flavours of self-destructive, but Sirius had just possibly exercised most of his away in the war. If he couldn’t turn off his own recklessness, his meanness, his vulgarity, his pride, his aggression, if he let it all fester, then he couldn’t be safe for Remus. And the two of them were at a point where they couldn’t leave each other alone anymore. Change, or complete annihilation. 

He had picked the first, and now Remus let himself be held every night.

(The first time she had started slow. Made it playful. A game and a challenge. She had made him feel good, said things that were almost kind. Made him trust her, although he probably would have stayed, anyway. He wasn’t the type to run. He didn’t hide. It had felt good, right before she hurt him.)

Sirius grinned manically and held out his hand for his lover. Remus slapped it, at first, then took it and let Sirius help him off the bike. He didn’t seem properly scared, not really. Their descent had lasted less than five seconds. Adorably affronted.

Remus huffed and swung his leg stiffly over the bike. Then he looked Sirius in the eye, and Sirius smiled from ear to ear.

“You’re so sexy.”

Remus stumbled towards him, hunger writ on every feature, legs still moving funny from having cramped up on the bike.

(She had used bodybind spells later because he flailed about when he was in pain. Sometimes when he felt pleasure, too.)

Remus stopped an inch from him, breath hot on Sirius’s face, hands twitching by his sides. Front of his trousers bulging, but then that appeared to be the default, nowadays.

“Sure nobody will catch us at it up here?” Remus breathed.

(His mother had found him after the act, once or twice. Once she had caught Bellatrix touching him, on his bed, and Sirius had a recollection that she had had Regulus in tow then, too. That he had seen…

The thing was, Grimmauld Place was no place for children. It wasn’t a house that would protect your innocence. It was a house that had been so thoroughly corrupted that victim had long since turned abuser. The amount of times that house had tried to lure him into holes in the wall, into trap doors that led to abandoned, boarded-off parts where doors locked from the outside and nobody could hear you scream…

His mother had never recognized him as the victim. Not even tied up and half-naked and stained with someone else’s blood. 

They shared a dramatic streak, like so many members of their family. Sirius could read his mother. Knew that there was only room for one victim in her narrative. That victim would always be her.

Later, when he was eleven going on twelve, he had come to experience that there was only room for one enemy in her narrative, too.)

“I’ll make sure,” Sirius breathed back, lips trying to touch Remus’s, only his lover leant back teasingly, not letting him. Glittering eyes and a wet, hungry mouth.

“And then you’re going to bend over for me.”

(So what, then, was innocence? He remembered clearly the first time he had gotten truly and utterly fucked. Bellatrix and Dolohov. You might well argue that there hadn’t been much left for them to take.

It had been the end of an era, because it had been the last time Bellatrix ever touched him, at least until he was nineteen and kidnapped and locked in her cellar and tortured in a thoroughly unsexual way for information about the Order of the Phoenix. 

Sometimes, nowadays, in the aftermath, safe and warm in their bed in Mile End where he could stay in and play with Remus’s freckly foreskin, he thought he could feel some innocence flooding back into him.)

Sirius pouted, but he did draw his wand from his pocket.

“Muggle repellum,” Sirius muttered under his breath, waving his wand around haphazardly. Some steadying spells on his bike, next. It would not do for it to topple over while its owner was getting reamed, trousers around ankles and bent in half over it. “Muffliato.” He might be loud. Hopefully, he could make it sound like he wasn’t in pain.

(Sadism, he had since learnt was what Bellatrix had. Not so much suffered from as revelled in. What had come to make up the main part of her personality in later years. Bleeding over from her sexuality like a potent old curse.

They didn’t put labels on things, at least not out loud. Masochism was what Remus had, though, but only on some days, only when the moon buggered off. 

Sirius couldn’t find either within himself. Hated the former with his usual passion and found the latter confusing and upsetting.)

“Are you sure you want to?” Remus asked in a whisper. He was plastered to Sirius again and had a hand down Sirius’s skinny jeans, fingers around Sirius’s limp dick. It wasn’t so much as twitching.

“How can I call myself a leather biker if I haven’t even gotten shagged on top of my steed?” Sirius whispered back, winking and squeezing Remus back. Rock hard.

“You want to title yourself ‘leather biker’?”

“Thought that went without saying,” Sirius said distractedly, “it’ll go well with ‘occupational werewolf-shagger’, ‘ex- muggle fucker’ and ‘crossword enthusiast’.”

“You reckon?” Remus said, and now his mouth was twitching at the corners.

“Mmm. Forgot ‘founding member of the Marauders’ and ‘Prongs’s first choice in Godfather’.”

“I didn’t,” Remus said softly, leaning in and kissing him. 

“Mmm,” Sirius said again, before opening up and feasting on his lover’s terrifically tasty tongue.

(She had been reckless, just like him. When he asked, she had told him that she did this because he was full of magic. Because he talked back. Because he was clever and could make his words just as cruel as she could. He knew now that she had seen a rival and decided to make him her partner in crime. After, when they had all learnt how little blood and purity meant to him, she hadn’t wanted to touch him with a ten-foot broomstick. She had started seeing him as a poorly landed joke.)

Their flight had had a pleasantly cooling effect but now Sirius was beginning to sweat through his faded Blondie concert t-shirt. They were standing on concrete, baking hot concrete with a scorching sun close above. Remus was probably in his element, Sirius thought, since he thrived on warmth like an ageing housecat. Purred like one, too, if you tickled him just right…

“Oh no,” Remus hissed, dodging Sirius’s fingers expertly, eyes glittering in the afternoon sun, “ _I’m_ in charge now.”

“Yeah?” Sirius drawled. “You’re going to tell me what to do?”

(Bellatrix had always had full control of her boyfriends. Sirius had seen a couple of them pass through his bedroom. She had cut open Selwyn when he misbehaved, and Sirius had watched with wide eyes, not quite believing it when he cried for her. 

Dolohov had been a sadist, too. Not of her calibre, not yet, but never content with just receiving. He had enjoyed it immensely when she instructed him on what to do to Sirius.)

“Turn around,” Remus whispered, voice nervous and excited. “Open your jeans for me, show me what you’ve got.”

( _No permanent damage_ , Bellatrix had told him once, big words he didn’t understand, _Walburga might make a fuss if I don’t fix you up_. As if.)

Sirius tried to make the movement of pulling down his jeans over his bum a sensual, attractive performance. They were a bit too tight, but he could tell that he did alright from the way Remus drew breath when the fabric slid down to reveal thick, muscular arse cheeks, white and pristine and virginal except, of course, for the thick purple thing sticking out in the middle. 

“I can’t believe you look like this,” Remus spoke into the back of his head, “I truly can’t believe how good-looking you are.”

Remus’s hands felt as though they were trembling when they felt up Sirius’s behind. Sirius arched his back, placed his hands on his trusty motorcycle. Tried to spread his legs as much as his jeans allowed him to, stuck as they were around his thighs. Remus swore when he first touched the plug. Gave it a try. Slick with lube.

(She had needed to heal him after Dolohov was done with him. He had started bleeding very quickly and Bellatrix had instructed her beau to go slow. To draw it out for as long as he could. Sirius hadn’t seen him, just heard his grunts. His arms had been stuck to his sides with magic. Legs like jelly. Bellatrix’s ecstatic face had entered his vision occasionally, all the while the blood pooled underneath his body. 

She had kept her word. There hadn’t been a scratch on him after, once she had fixed the tears and breaks with her extraordinarily powerful magic. She was very adept at healing spells, but for some reason that was overlooked when people discussed her many and varied talents.) 

“All of me,” Remus moaned, thrusting against him, close to losing control already. Sirius twisted his hand behind his back and got Remus’s fly open. Heavy, huge cock falling out of his open trousers, slapping against Sirius’s bare behind.

“You’re so big I’ll feel you for a week,” Sirius drawled, stretching out his body in a way that might suggest he was at ease. “So fucking enormous, babe.”

(They had tried to make him cry, Dolohov especially. Sirius hadn’t. He had always tried not to when anyone could see him. 

Bellatrix had seemed proud of him when he didn’t.)

Sirius hissed. The plug was being removed, slowly but with shaking fingers. Remus was eager. 

It wasn’t bad; not really. He had prepared himself thoroughly, plenty of lube, plenty of time. Done a finger first, then his smallest dildo. Then a slightly bigger one.

“Does it hurt?” Remus breathed into his neck. He tossed the plug aside, and they both heard its dull thump on the concrete. He began sliding his dick between Sirius’s legs, catching the lube dripping out of him. 

“No, I’m good.”

They rarely fucked this way round more than once a month, and almost never when Remus was completely lucid. The wolf craved it much more than Remus did.

Today Remus was all that was present. Plain good, sweet Remus who cared more deeply than what was humanly comprehensible. Sirius had almost forgotten that he would get a completely different experience to normal. 

(He hadn’t cried until the week after, which just happened to be the night before his parents took him to King’s Cross. Alone in his bed and with memories washing over him. So many firsts and lasts. 

He had almost cried a few times since then but hadn’t quite managed it. Not for real. Maybe because it had been the loss of the last of his innocence, the last thing for him to truly mourn. 

He had started again from rock bottom. Had had to crawl his way back up. Fight his way towards the light up above. 

Remus’s bright eyes.)

“We really don’t have to, you know,” Remus said, and he managed to make his voice sound as though he didn’t care if he got to fuck Sirius or not. His fingers were worrying with Sirius’s soft little cock. 

“I’d like to, if you’re still up for it,” Sirius countered without pause. “I just won’t get hard from it. I don’t reckon I’ve ever gotten hard from penetration.”

“Hmm,” Remus said. The hand stilled, palm settling gently over it. Cupping it.

“I’ve noticed not all men do, it’s not that uncommon,” Sirius continued.

The hand holding him lost some of its grace and Sirius mentally kicked himself. He wasn’t supposed to bring up other people when they shagged, not when it appeared to upset Remus.

“Ah. Have you let many men take you over your bike?” 

“No,” Sirius said, almost quipping a ‘just a mermaid with a strap-on’ after it but stopping himself on time. “Very few men have fucked me, none of them over a vehicle of any description.”

“Okay.” Remus kissed his neck, squeezed his dick gently. “Sorry, none of my business of course. I’m trying to work on it. Trying to stop thinking about you with others.”

“And yet you’re still hard,” Sirius said, wiggling his bum teasingly. Remus growled in his ear.

“That’s because I’m going to have you now. I’ll make you forget about everyone who’s ever been here before me.”

Sirius arched his back, bent his neck backwards until all he saw were sheer blue skies above.

“Fucking take what’s yours, then.”

(The hat lost no time telling him that his main, defining quality was his inner strength. His courage. It had declared that it would always, to the end, be what defined him. Then, more conspiratorially, the hat had said it could also see how loyal he could be, if only he found the right sort of family. Sirius had bristled at the mention of family, and the hat, more soothingly this time, had said that for some, family was just another word for your friends. For whom you hold dear. 

_Gryffindor!_ it had shouted, because where he belonged hadn’t been up for debate.)

He steeled himself, hands on his precious bike. The seat was perfect for holding onto. Remus was making him spit in his hand and Sirius found it rather sexy. He licked on Remus’s bony fingers, clammy palm, then let as much spittle as he could gather pour out of his mouth and into his lover’s hand. Remus was squeezing and caressing him with his free hand, sometimes muttering something about how in awe he was of what Sirius looked like.

(Sirius had gotten grades almost identical to Bellatrix’s. He had been told several times at school that the last time someone had performed some spell in that way it had been his cousin, and how clever of him to be able to do it, too. His face was a copy of his mother’s. but nigh on so was Bellatrix’s. They were the most good-looking, the most lethally skilled and the most cuttingly offensive wordsmiths in the entire family.)

“You’re absolutely stunning,” Remus mumbled, one hand on Sirius’s waist and the other, from the sound of it, fast and slick on his cock. “Can’t believe you’re mine. Can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“You’ll fuck me so well, yeah? Make me take it all.”

Remus moaned into his neck, then there were teeth. Sirius gasped, momentarily he had forgotten that Remus liked teeth, always requested Sirius bite his neck, his nipples. Sirius almost never did. Had seen too many bleeding bruises on vulnerable, soft body parts that rarely saw the light. Violent purple, broken blood vessels. Black and diseased, marring formerly fair skin. 

How could he ever see it in another light?

“I love you so much,” Remus slurred into his neck, his ear, “Can I? Sorry, I should’ve asked, asked before I…”

“Give me one more,” Sirius interrupted, and this time, when he knew what was coming, he found that he liked the scrape of insistent teeth on him, nips, small tears. Then sucking, bruising kisses to cover it all up.

“Mine,” Remus got out, hot breath on wet skin, and Sirius inhaled sharply when the outright desperation in his lover’s voice registered.

“I’m all yours,” he agreed, encouragingly pressing back when he felt Remus’s fingers fumble between his arse cheeks, “you can have me.” Hands steady on his bike. Ring glittering on his finger. Bent over for his lover, just like it should be.

Remus pulled up his shirt with trembling hands, stroked the exposed skin of his waist and lower back. Fingers followed the tattoo on Sirius’s side. Then a pause.

(Now that he was older, he could see the events that had set it all in motion. He had gathered that Bellatrix had never found anyone in school who could equal her, who could keep her interested. She had eclipsed everyone in every way that mattered to her, fruitlessly looking for someone she could respect. Someone who had what she had and more, all that she valued. Someone she could pour her loyalty and her love over. 

She found him only after leaving school, and she tattooed her belonging onto her body.)

“May I?” Remus whispered into his ear, fingers gentle on his hole. Ready to dip in.

(Sirius met James already on the train ride. He had had an inkling, and he had known for sure that first night when they went exploring together. He had tattooed his ankle with an homage to James around the same time Bellatrix got branded with the Dark Mark on her wrist.)

“You may,” Sirius said, unable to keep the smirk out of his face, nor voice. Remus breathed out so, so heavily, divinely hot air making the hairs on the back of Sirius’s neck stand to attention.

(Sirius had turned thirteen by the time he started having sex for real. It had been with Marlene in his year, and funnily enough it had been her idea.

She had laughed both before and after their first time, but not in that menacing, deranged way Bellatrix sometimes had. Marlene had been happier than anyone he had ever met, even James. And she had been just as shameless as Sirius, which he had later found to be a rare quality. She had thrown off her clothes with pride, then been both giggly and fascinated by what he looked like without clothes. Not in a mean way, though, never in a way that was designed to hurt him or make him second-guess the way he was. Simple, innocent curiosity.

It had healed him more thoroughly than he had thought was possible.)

Remus’s push was gentle, so very gentle. It always felt insurmountable, not just because Remus was big, but also because Sirius clenched up every single time. This time, it didn’t hurt.

“That’s nice,” Sirius got out, voice suddenly hoarse. “Just a little bit slower, yeah? Bit of adjusting to do…”

“I love you,” Remus said, accompanied by something very close to a sob. His dickhead was possibly all the way in, or it might be that it was being squeezed in the middle. Sirius smiled at the visual.

“I love you, too.”

“Hard to believe you’ve been with so many people when you’re this tight,” Remus whispered in his ear. Voice low and aroused. Sirius knew that talking dirty didn’t come easily for his lover. Knew it needed to be cherished when it appeared, no matter the shape it took.

“Nobody has been as big as you,” Sirius purred. “Let’s have a bit more of you, hmm? Cock for days is what you’ve got.”

Remus stifled some laughter by biting Sirius’s neck again, and Sirius arched back, then swore when he felt a lot more of his lover push inside him.

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” Sirius wheezed, “never better.”

“Poor Sirius,” Remus said mildly, palm rubbing over Sirius’s belly, “the biggest slut with the tightest hole there ever was.”

“You love it,” Sirius replied confidently, “and you love touching me all over, don’t you? Feel that stomach. Like six gold galleons laid out underneath my skin, yeah?”

Remus laughed again, but he didn’t contradict Sirius as his fingers felt out his six-pack. Sirius preened.

“What about my arse?” Sirius continued. “Good for spanking, I know, gets nice and red the way you like it.”

“I like it just the way it is,” Remus said carefully, hand migrating between their bodies, palm shaping itself after Sirius’s arse cheek, “and besides, this is about your fantasy, and not about whatever you think mine is.”

“Right,” Sirius said, finding himself rather thrown. It was always easier to focus on Remus’s needs, and to be honest, getting Remus off was always going to be Sirius’s main fantasy.

“How did you envision this?” Remus asked.

“With your cock all the way in.”

“Wanker.”

“Yeah, only last night as a matter of fact.”

“Liar.”

“Wanked you off all over my face, didn’t I? Last night.”

Remus buried his head in Sirius’s neck again, and he couldn’t tell if it was laughter or just a snort of exasperation. No biting this time, though.

“Surprised you haven’t come, yet,” Sirius continued.

Remus dug his teeth in and growled.

“That’s it,” Sirius said quietly, eyes fluttering close from the sting in his neck, in his arsehole when Remus moved. “You know I love it, don’t you? When you come. That’s always going to be the highlight in my fantasies.”

“What else?” Remus mumbled, mouth searching, latching on to another bit of unspoilt neck.

“Just fuck me nice and slow,” Sirius said, bending a bit more and pushing back. 

“I see,” Remus said softly. 

Sirius really hoped he didn’t. 

(The last time he ran away from home was when he had just turned sixteen. He had broken free. 

James had known everything, or so Sirius thought, but he had still cried when Sirius talked about it afterwards. He supposed there were details he had neglected to mention before. He had mostly taken them out one by one, let each one hit the light, shown James before he boxed the memory up. Every bad thing that had ever happened to him in that cursed house.

He couldn’t do the same to Remus. The memories had such sharp edges. They were shy of the light nowadays. Neatly labelled in fastened shut containers, every single one stored away where they couldn’t hurt anyone who hadn’t already been hurt by them before.)

The last of Remus’s length sort of slotted into place almost by itself. Sirius wasn’t aware of trying, just of how nice Remus’s hands felt on his body, underneath his hiked-up shirt. Trying to massage him, his sides. All the while Remus was moving his mouth soothingly over Sirius’s bruised neck.

Remus was moving ever so slowly against Sirius’s arse. Slow, humping motion, barely drawing out an inch. It felt good.

“Bend over a bit more,” Remus whispered in his ear. He sounded laboured, like he was holding on with all he had. Yet his movement was little more than caresses.

Sirius eased himself down over his bike. Leather touching the exposed parts of his torso, t-shirt bunched underneath his armpits. Remus petted his hips while he thrust, keeping himself lodged deep inside. As deep as he could go. Sirius found it a bit shocking that he could take it all. That there was space for all of Remus when they really set their mind to it. It must feel ridiculously tight, though. He was pretty sure this was the first time Remus had lasted for more than a minute.

“I’m coming,” Remus grunted, body stilling for seconds before he thrust irregularly a few more times. Sirius couldn’t really feel it, but he found himself smiling gratefully at the view. He could see St Paul’s nearby, and the river serpentining to catch the sun, basking and sparkling like a happy, fat snake.

(The first time Sirius contemplated killing someone was when he went back to Grimmauld Place for Christmas after his first term at Hogwarts. Gryffindor. He had been hurt before then, of course, but the psychological warfare his mother subjected him to was indescribable. He thought about killing her with fire.

He almost killed someone when he was thirteen, and then again when he was sixteen.

He first killed someone when he was nineteen. A nameless Death Eater who had hurt Remus. Sirius had used the cruciatus curse on him, then kicked him repeatedly in the face until there was nothing left to break.

 _Are you proud of me now?_ )

“I shouldn’t have bitten you,” Remus stated regretfully. “I’m sure that wasn’t part of your fantasy.”

“I truly don’t mind,” Sirius said, letting a bit of his famous brand of impatience shine through. He raised himself back up on his arms. “You’re making this into a bigger deal than what it is.”

“Hm?”

“I just wanted to get shagged silly bent over Black Beauty, here,” Sirius said airily while he patted the bike carrying his weight. “Spitroasted between werewolf lover and shiny motorbike, yeah?”

He listened to the pause where Remus should have laughed. Remus was stroking him over his heart, now. Doing what Sirius so often did to him. Sirius wondered if he was counting heartbeats, or if he was trying to communicate. Trying to draw Sirius’s dirty little secrets out of him.

“Do you feel safe with me?”

Sirius froze. His lover had his heart in his hand. Balls deep in him, still, making him so full he got agitated and didn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’ve been safe since I met you. You and James.”

Remus squeezed him but gently, encouraging his speech. Sirius, for once in his life, wasn’t sure what to tell him.

“War’s over… Most of them – most of the Blacks are dead. Memories can’t hurt me.”

“Not true, I reckon,” Remus said softly in his ear. He pulled him up, hugged Sirius to his body like a highly cherished teddy. Cock was beginning to slip out, but still half inside.

“I never think about it, I haven’t for years.”

“I reckon you have, today.”

Sirius exhaled deeply.

“I can tell,” Remus explained. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”

Sirius turned around slowly, Remus’s arms still encircling him. They were still mostly dressed.

“You’re right.”

Remus smiled as though he knew how difficult those words were. Kissed Sirius’s nose.

“But I don’t fancy talking about it.”

“That’s alright.” 

Remus’s eyes looked kind. Looked like he meant it. He was touching Sirius’s hand now, his fingers. The ring on his finger. _I'm proud of you_ , he mouthed.

“All yours,” Sirius said, trying not to blush. He was a Black, and Blacks never...

Remus nodded. He watched Sirius’s face for a bit, then apparently the cityscape behind him. The place that had always claimed Sirius, no matter where he currently called home. The city that drew him back, perhaps because of the shared hardships. Hogwarts had been too fairy-tale like. The Potters place had been like a dream. He had never been punished as much as he had when he lived in London. And now, with Remus, the city had begun to give back to him. Rewarded him for maintaining courage.

“Maybe if you, um.”

Remus was back to the way Sirius liked him best. Blushing like a complete innocent, just barely managing to meet Sirius’s eye when he led him around the other side of the bike. Made him lean against it, jeans still around his knees, t-shirt still rucked up around his chest. London and Remus in front of him, filling his vision.

“I bet this is part of your fantasy,” Remus whispered; he was lowering himself, falling to his knees on the concrete rooftop.

“Remus, yes,” Sirius got out, hands by his sides opening. Remus smiled and took one, then carefully directed the other one to the back of his head.

“Enjoy the view.”

Sirius sighed, completely content and supported by his bike and his lover. Remus’s hand felt warm and soft and bony in his, his lips felt incredible mouthing over the tattoo next to Sirius’s hip. Sirius was growing hard fast, but he was in absolutely no hurry. The come dripping out of his hole and onto the leather seat of his bike barely registered, just Remus, beautiful, kind Remus on his knees for him, and beautiful, cruel London in front of him.

Sirius absently petted his lover’s tawny, mostly curly hair. Combed fingers through it, although he wasn’t trying to direct Remus anywhere. Could probably have come eventually just from this, just from the feeling of Remus’s soft lips kissing him where hip and thigh and groin met.

Eventually, when Sirius had torn his eyes away from the shimmery Thames and looked down, Remus moved closer, nudging his hot, heavy erection. Nuzzled against it on one side, Sirius’s palm caressing his other cheek. Mouth opening and Sirius let his thumb meander inside, looked Remus deeply into his eyes while he kissed it. 

Sirius mouthed _I love you_ and watched more colour appear over Remus’s cheeks, underneath his freckles. His eyes glazed over, like sapphire skies and golden fields in early morning mist. The countryside. Sirius squeezed his hand and felt the wonder of being squeezed in return, of response. Togetherness.

Remus moved his mouth to his dick. Mouthing languidly along the shaft. Kissing the tip while he watched Sirius’s face. 

“So beautiful,” Sirius said, his voice hoarse and breaking on the last syllable. He caressed his lover’s cheek, his lover’s hand. Lovely bones.

Remus’s tongue came out, just a little, just enough. Sirius watched with abated breath how he licked up the shaft, so slow, so good. 

“Can I – where can I?”

Remus moved up and sucked gently on his dickhead, looking straight into his eyes and squeezing his hand once. Sirius came with a low moan, leaning heavily against his bike, cupping Remus’s cheek and watching him swallow. It was the most stunning thing he had ever seen; he could feel the awe prickling behind his eyes. Maybe he could still do it.

“Can I hold you?”

Remus let him out of his mouth, looking rather pleased with himself. A bit shellshocked, too. He raised himself up, stumbling a bit on stiff legs but Sirius had him in his arms and there was no way he was letting him fall.

( _You need to mean it!_ )

There weren’t really any words left. Sirius had used them all, some in vain, some had rolled off his tongue without a second thought. He still repeated a few ‘I love you’s’, told Remus how good he was. How beautiful. When they kissed, the thrill that went through Sirius could probably be felt like a jolt of electricity. He caressed his lover’s stomach, tried to show his appreciation. Tasted the hint on himself that was all that remained on Remus’s tongue.

Remus leaned back; lips parted. Soft and pink. His eyes were just a little bit red-rimmed. Sirius wondered if his own eyes were, too. 

“I’m so grateful you survived. That we both did."

“Yeah,” Sirius said. 

Inadequate, but what else was there to say?

(She had tried to kill him. Many times, and in many ways. Her great big rival. In the end, he was the one who had killed her. 

In a way, she had been his last, as well as his first.)

“Let’s go home,” Sirius suggested, although one might argue he already was. He had picked his friends and made his own family. He could call Hogwarts his home, and he wouldn’t be lying. London still claimed him, though.

“No way, I’m not sitting on that,” Remus said, gesturing with mock offense at the motorbike next to them. Streaks of semen were glittering a bit sickeningly in the sunlight, not yet dry.

Sirius absently scratched his behind before he pulled his trousers back up. Remus was watching him with a challenging glint in his eye.

Sirius bent down, turning a deaf ear to his lover’s immediate protestations, and licked it up. Hot and a bit stale on his tongue.

“So fucking gross,” Remus groaned, but he was all up in Sirius’s face anyway, mouths meeting in a dirty kiss, “such a dog! I can’t believe I – ah – put up with you…” Kisses peppering all over, hint of tongue on tongue. Sirius smiled into the kiss.

“Because you love me,” Sirius whispered, heart swelling, grin broadening. He meant it.

“Because I love you,” Remus agreed, mouth to mouth, heart to heart. “Let’s fly this death trap home.”


End file.
